


turn the page (i'm a book half unread)

by liquidsky



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-11-29 02:28:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20955149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liquidsky/pseuds/liquidsky
Summary: Will Byers gets a meet-cute.





	turn the page (i'm a book half unread)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pscypher](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pscypher/gifts).

> like, okay! i might be screaming into the void with this fic, but it's the result of a irl fic exchange done in my creative writing group (in which Known Best Friend and i got each other, not at all rigged, right) and i _liked_ it, so hey. why not! 
> 
> the title is a line from _weightless_ by all time low because, like, had will been born in the late 90s that for sure would've been his teenage song. it's gonna be his year!!!!!!!!

Will is seriously out of his depth here. 

The air around him is thick with the smell of weed and axe spray, and he's spent the last twenty minutes pressed against the wall near the corner next to the stairs of this too-big house whose owner he has most likely never exchanged three words with, and he's _tired._ Will's always been pretty unyielding on the matter of house parties – his verdict being that they _suck,_ which is why, over the years, he's learned well enough how to dodge any and all potential invitations. He doesn't do parties, as a general rule, except for how now he does. Apparently. He's trying to _socialize,_ mostly because his six-foot-four jock of a roommate (who's named Dick after Dick Van Dyke, of all people, and has a strange habit of trying to _interact_ with Will) had told him he should. It's the college experience, or whatever else, and it's not Will's scene at all, but Mike's been on his case about _growing up_ for the past six years, give or take, so here Will is. 

The music is bad, though the suspicious red liquid he's been taking occasional sad sips of since he's first arrived is probably worse, and he's doing his best to avoid eye-contact with anyone who glances his way. Dick, across the room from him, is dancing too close to a girl with reddish brown hair and _a lot_ happening for her upfront, and Will is just–he doesn't know why he's here, frankly, and maybe it'll be okay if he just walks up the stairs and locks himself in a random room until it's time to leave. The house owner is probably just as shitfaced as everyone else, Will figures, so he sneaks past a couple of girls and makes his way upstairs, silently ducking behind two dudes who are busy shoving at each other before he peers past the door of the first room to his left. 

It looks empty. It also looks like a freaking _bomb site,_ but beggars can't be choosers, or something, so he slips inside easily and shuts the door. The crappy music from before doesn't sound quite as loud in the relative safety of the room, and Will looks around, squinting in the dark to stare at the row of posters hung on the far side of the wall. He stares at Spock's face for twenty full seconds before he resumes looking around, hand idly touching the edge of a messy desk until it bumps into a pile of dog-eared paperbacks. 

Will picks one of them up, eyeing the small, obviously painted-on dragon on the cover. The title is carefully written in round, bright letters, so Will brings the book closer to him, tracing his fingers along each of the lines. He's lost in thought, reading the synopsis with quirked brows when a noise from somewhere on his left startles the living crap out of him. 

The book hits the desk with a loud thump, and Will turns to stare at the tall guy in blue UCLA sweatpants who's leveling him an unimpressed gaze. 

"So," the guy starts, and Will's eyes trail down and quickly back up to frown at him. "You're in my room." 

Will coughs, "Sorry, I–I didn't know this was your room, I should probably–"

"It's cool," the guy says, sounding amused now. "You didn't know." 

"I'm really sorry," Will tells him, mostly because he is, but also because it's just _what you do,_ "I'm, uh–Will, by the way." 

"Dave," He shrugs lightly. "And it's fine. Word of advice, though. Maybe don't _touch_ stuff the next time you're hiding out in someone else's room." 

"Noted." 

"So, what's your deal?" Dave asks, brushing past Will and plopping down to sit on the edge of the bed. "Who'd you come with?"

"Dick?" Says Will. He flushes when Dave raises both eyebrows at him. "He's–really tall? On the football team?"

Dave's lips twitch, "Yep, I know Dick. My brother's on the team too."

"Oh," Will nods. "That's–cool?"

"Is it?" Dave makes a face. "You into football?" 

Will pauses, leaning back against the desk and turning slightly so he can tilt his head at Dave. He's not sure what the right answer is, if he's being honest. He's probably the furthest thing from a football fan one can be, but Dave is looking back at him, half-curious and half-amused, and Will doesn't really want to disappoint. 

He glances around the room, blinking twice at the huge Spock poster before answering, "Not really, no." 

"Good," Dave breaks out into a grin. "Me neither. What _are_ you into, then?" 

"Fantasy books," he says, grabbing the paperback he was fiddling with earlier. He gives it a little shake, "The cover of this looks pretty different." 

Dave gets up from the bed, two big steps leaving him to pause next to Will, just a little too close. "Good different?" 

"It's beautiful," Will tells him, swallowing. 

"Yeah?" Dave bumps their shoulders together, and Will feels warmth spread all the way down to his knees. "I drew it." 

Will turns, "Wow, really?" 

"I do cover redraws? Like, with paint and stuff. So they fit the story better." 

"That's amazing," says Will, and it is. He stares down at the book, noticing again the small details and the colors. It's beautiful, and it sounds so much like the kind of story Will would love to get lost in that he tightens his fingers around it for a second. 

Dave is smiling when Will looks back up at him, "You can borrow it, if you want."

"I'd like that." Will answers, and they stay in silence for a while, standing next to each other with their legs crossed at the ankles and their hands brushing against one another on top of the desk. 

Will feels different, here, warm and pleased and _grown up._ He sneaks a glance at Dave, wondering idly if Mike would approve of him. Not that they've talked about it enough for him to feel as though he could ask, but maybe one day. 

Dave shifts closer to him when Will sighs, so he knocks his knuckles against the desk and steps away from Dave and closer to his array of posters. 

"So, Star Trek?" Will asks, and Dave moves, too, once again pausing to stand beside him. 

"It's a good show." 

Will smiles, watching as Dave watches him. "My favorite." 

"Is it?" Dave says, "Let me guess, you're a Kirk guy."

It's not something anyone's ever thought to ask, weirdly enough, and Will _is,_ he very much is, but he's never once said it out loud. Not to anyone who wasn't Jonathan or his mom. Not even to Mike – it's another one of the unspoken items that started piling up after everything, all those years ago. Will thinks it's probably time he says it. Especially to Mike, and the others. Maybe now, too. 

Will peers at Dave, assessing him for a while before offering him a small smile, "What makes you say that?" 

"Really?" Dave laughs. He doesn't sound one bit like he's laughing _at_ Will, though. "I'm a Spock fan, myself." 

Caught off-guard, Will snorts, "That's good to know, I guess." 

"Says a lot about a person," Dave agrees easily. 

Will looks at him, taking in his large front teeth and the dusting of freckles across the bridge of his nose. Will has to glance up, just a little, just enough that it makes him feel balmy and overheated, but he keeps looking.

"I, uh–I do like Kirk a lot." Will tells him, breath catching when Dave steps closer to him. 

"What do you do when you're not watching our captain, then?" 

Will's never had someone stand quite so close to him, not anyone _new_, not anyone who looked at him like Dave is looking now. 

"D&D," Will says, feeling almost light-headed when Dave grins even wider. 

"Holy shit," he breathes out, "Are you sure you haven't, like, been _sent_ here?" 

Will blinks at him, "By whom?" 

"Nothing, never mind, just–" Dave pauses, shaking himself. "What are you doing tomorrow?" 

"What?" 

"Tomorrow," Dave repeats, and Will tilts his head at him. He feels—overwhelmed is the word that comes to mind, but it might not be accurate enough. It's not that he is overwhelmed as much as it is that he feels _novel,_ like he's been living inside one of those snow globes for all his life and someone has just happened to give it a shake. He stares at Dave, hands twitching, and Dave stares back. 

"I don't have any plans." Will says, "Do you want–"

"Yes." 

Will laughs, "Okay. Do you like arcades?" 

"I do, yeah," Dave nods. 

Will snorts again, and Dave's lips twitch as though he's in on the joke. He probably is, Will thinks, as Dave starts laughing, too, this quiet thing that Will already knows could become his favorite sound in the world. 

Will steps forward, just a centimeter, "Good. Me too." 

He's seriously out of his depth, here. Dave leans into him, though, so Will decides he doesn't mind.

**Author's Note:**

> unbeta'd and back to present tense... we-


End file.
